


After the War

by CoilingThoughts, IceCladShade



Category: Avatar (2009)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Body Modification, Body Worship, Cum drinking, Deepthroating, Face-Sitting, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, M/M, Master/Pet, Mild Cum Inflation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Manipulation, Mpreg, Oral Sex, Rimming, Size Difference, Size Kink, Xenophilia, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22800397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoilingThoughts/pseuds/CoilingThoughts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCladShade/pseuds/IceCladShade
Summary: After the Battle of the Tree of Souls, the tribes of the Na'vi returned home. They did not go home empty-handed, though.
Relationships: Original Male Character(s)/Original Male Na'vi Character(s)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 138





	1. Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IceCladShade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCladShade/gifts).



True war was a rarity amongst the Na’vi. Not because of an inherent aversion to violence - to suggest such a thing would be the height of whitewashing, given the semi-regular raids tribes launch on one another for resources and concubines - but because of a triad of factors: their shared connection to the deific figure of Eywa, the geographical isolation of the various tribes and the rite known as the  _ Sey ta Fwing  _ (lit. ‘cup born of humiliation’, coll. ‘cup of defeat’). The largest known instance of this rite was performed following the defeat of the forces of the Resources Development Administration in the Battle of the Tree of Souls, placing the majority of the remainder of the RDA presence on Pandora under the sway of the victorious Na’vi.

In short, the Cup signifies the end of hostilities, not only in a ritual sense but in a physical one, chemically discouraging the defeated from retaliating while also symbolically linking them to the victors as  _ soaia’evan  _ (lit. ‘younger family’, with the connotation that as children obey their elders the defeated should obey the victors). 

A second element of this rite is the phenomenon of  _ munxta simuva _ (lit. ‘second mate’, coll. ‘concubine’). This is a term for individuals - always unmated, and almost always young males - who react to the Cup extremely strongly, in the short term experiencing a burst of debilitatingly intense arousal and in the long term forming bonds of powerful devotion and sexual desire towards a male of the victorious tribe - invariably one who desires them in return. It is known that  _ munxta simuva _ often experience powerful conflicts in the first days or occasionally weeks of this, as they often feel simultaneous resentment towards and extreme desire for their  _ yora’tu  _ (lit. ‘winner’, coll. ‘master, dominant’), but these conflicts are invariably resolved in favour of desire. Such individuals are treated as the property of the  _ yora’tu  _ in the same sense as a pet, but are treated well by holy taboo (the phenomenon is seen as a direct intervention of Eywa) and are rarely unhappy with their situation. 

A peculiarity of human physiology in relation to that of the Na’vi - perhaps exacerbated by the size difference, in the same sense that two doses of the same size will have lesser effects on a larger human - seems to have resulted in a far higher rate of  _ munxta simuva _ compared to the Na’vi. After the Joining, Eywa intervened directly to make this truly universal amongst the  _ Na’vi’akra,  _ alongside their other changes.

**\- Ennel te Warders Weylrr’fil, _A Record of Humanity on Pandora_**

* * *

Ricken Warders felt the press of the blue monkey’s gun in his back as he was herded forwards. The duffel bag containing all his possessions on this godforsaken moon bounced against his side as he moved towards the tent. Pitched on the forest floor, it was a perfect example of just how primitive these xenos were - hide for walls and sticks for pillars. 

“In,” said Big Gun, as the marine had dubbed her. He went, grinding his teeth the whole way. There was no point in rebelling right now - not openly, at least. All he had was a knife he’d managed to salvage before the aliens’ squads came in and confiscated all the weapons left. All he’d do is get himself killed.

Ricken didn’t have to duck to enter the glorified teepee, the flap designed for the towering treepeople. The air inside was warm and smokey, heavy with what smelled like incense and an odd, fruity scent. A monkey, bedecked in a million little bones and teeth, stood behind what looked like a massive wooden bowl, brimming with something thick-looking that glowed a faint blue-white. But for his fetishes and charms he was naked, showing off a schlong that belonged on a fucking horse, blue as the rest of him. The marine heard movement behind him and, turning his head, saw two more monkeys, completely naked and holding nothing but a pair of knives that would have passed as swords on Earth.

“ _ Tawtute _ , you have lost this war. Accept this, drink from  _ Sey ta Fwing _ and let peace resume between our peoples,” the shaman-fucker intoned, squatting down with the bowl in his hands, offering it forwards. 

Ricken remembered his training.  _ Resist to the utmost of your ability while you prepare to escape. _ The second shuttle had been taken offworld while the fighting was still going on by the chickenshit bureaucrats, and it was only the mercy of the CO2Lung retrovirus that let humans even breathe on Pandora after the power generators of the base were smashed. The whole place was on backup power - essentials and basic amenities only. Escape was still possible, though - Pandora was a vicious bitch, but not one that couldn’t be tamed. The monkeys were primitive at best, get enough marines and scientists together and they could wipe them from the face of the planet. In the meantime, resistance was the priority.

He pressed his lips together, refusing to drink. Now that it was closer, he could tell that it was from this that the fruity scent emanated. Little swirls of phosphorescence danced in its depths.

One of the treehuggers behind him sighed and spoke. Ricken’s broken Monkeytalk told him he’d said something like ‘They are children-like’. Then he felt the point of something sharp at his neck.

“You drink,” said the older-looking one. “Or you die. We not allow enemies to remain on Eywa’eveng.”

For a moment Ricken considered it; dying in defiance of the savages. But no, he wouldn’t be a martyr. No-one would ever hear of him, whether on Pandora or Earth. He’d just be another statistic, presumed dead in the Fuckup of Hallelujah. When the shaman raised the bowl a second time the marine drank, opening his mouth to catch a gulp of the thick liquid. 

It was lukewarm, with a creamy texture and a taste somewhere between a dozen different fruits - sweet and actually quite pleasant, with a slight cinnamonny aftertaste. Definitely better than processed ration bars and protein shakes. But the shaman pulled the bowl away (Ricken ignored the sudden impulse to ask for it back; it had been good) and the marine was ushered out of the tent once more. 

He caught a glimpse of the guy after him - a sissy-looking admin type - before Big Gun came back and herded him into a small group of other people. All of them had the telltale gleam of the liquid around their mouths. Ricken viciously wiped his own with his sleeve as the she-monkey started hustling them off again towards the second barracks block. 

Since the Fuckup, there’d been few enough humans on Pandora that one wing of barracks is enough to house them all. The monkeys had been taking advantage of that by putting the pre-processing people in one and the post-weird ceremony ones in the other. Sure enough, upon reaching the barracks, the marine found it much like the other: a mess of soldiers and civvies bunking together in little groups. Here and there a monkey stood, watching them. 

A short search revealed that none of Ricken’s squad were here yet, so he found a set of bunks that hadn’t been claimed. He didn’t have much to amuse himself with - with the power down he couldn’t charge his holo and keeping that for emergencies or later on was more important than games. 

There were a couple of books from the compound library circulating in the other barracks - printed out cheaply on Pandora; no-one wanted to bring whole books through interstellar space, there were better things to use the space and mass for - and the marine had been in the middle of one when the monkeys had come calling. Ricken extracted the volume from his bag before shoving it under the bed, yanked off his boots and stowed them as well before climbing into the bottom bunk and making himself as comfortable as he could.

The book wasn’t great, honestly. The blond probably would never have picked it up under other circumstances, but as it was there wasn’t much else to do. It was an old-ass sci-fi novel from before antimatter tech. Still, it passed the time, and though the main character was a kid there were plenty of pretty smoking babes described who weren’t. 

As time wore on, though, the marine’s mind began to wander. What would happen now? It was nice to think of escaping and getting back at the savages, but the reality was that without gear and a supply line bringing ammo - and the ISVs would shut down without the profits from the unobtainium, that was for certain - they didn’t stand much of a chance. The fucking monkeys had the home field advantage, were about twice their height, stupid-strong… Maybe it would be better to just let them do as they wanted -  _ whatever _ it was that they wanted.

_ No _ . With an effort of will the marine pulled himself from the lapse.  _ Don’t give up. Return home with honor _ . 

What had the monkeys given him? Had that weird… potion done this to him? Put these thoughts in his head?

Ricken let the book fall and ran a hand through the gene-coloured blue tips of his hair. He needed to… not think. Just do. Normally he’d go to the gym for something like that, but as it was…

The marine blinked as he suddenly realized that his pants were tight. When had he gotten hard? From the girls in the book? To be sure, the descriptions were pretty… lavishing at times, but still he wasn’t a fucking teenager.

Still, the situation presented a solution to distracting himself. There were too many people in the barracks to do it here, but the showers were open and he hadn’t seen anyone go in there since he’d entered. 

Quietly, Ricken pulled out his bag, pulling out his towel and a small bottle of wash and tossing the book onto the bed. He climbed to his feet and made his way towards the showers’ door, passing the native at the end of the bunk row as he went. The alien looked down at him, teeth sharp like a dog’s. The marine was a tall man, a good six-three, but the indigenous were giants. 

Ricken became suddenly aware that his head was almost perfectly level with the alien’s crotch, and even more uncomfortably, that his dick had jumped in his pants at that thought. 

The indigenous moved, hips gyrating forwards suggestively, emphasizing a subtle bulge behind the loincloth. The blond’s eyes flashed upwards to be met with grinning white teeth. “Neu tsa’u, tawtute?” Ricken’s mouth dried. His cock was a steel bar.

But was the one doing it was an alien. He shouldn’t be thinking of  _ that _ . 

_ I’m sick.  _

Ricken curled a lip and strode away. The monkey’s laughter chased him through the door.

* * *

The changing room was empty, lockers lining two and a half walls. Most lay open and bare. He picked one and began to peel off his shirt. The jungle humidity meant that it took approximately half a minute after a shower before you started sweating again. Used to be that the insides of the buildings were drier and cooler, but when the CO2Lung came through they stripped off the airlocks and shut down most of the conditioning, and backup power had put paid to the remainder. 

Getting his trousers and pants off over the marine’s rock-hard dick proved to be a minor struggle, but before long he managed it. He grabbed the towel and wash and proceeded through the empty doorway into the showers. Like everything else in the barracks, they were military-stark: a line of metal heads set into a lino-covered wall, with L-shaped curtain rails offering a modicum of privacy for each - company-mandated, given there was only one set of showers for both genders. Still, it was better than getting himself off in the barracks proper.

Ricken pulled the curtain around and tossed the towel over the rail, setting his wash on the ground before passing his hand over the sensor for the shower. A dim hologram flickered into existence, showing the temperatures available - all one of them. 

Ricken sighed and turned on the water, feeling its cool stream beat at his back. That was one good thing about the heat: the water wasn’t freezing, even with the power on reserve. For a minute or two, the marine simply indulged in the pleasure of washing the sweat from his limbs. Before long, though, his hands wandered downwards and began to caress his still-hard length. 

Ricken shut off the water and leaned his back against the wall as he began, slowly, to stroke himself. He closed his eyes, conjuring up an image of the last woman he’d had: a hooker in Shanghai, ten years ago - though it felt like only three, thanks to cryosleep.

God, she’d been a beauty. He’d known there wouldn’t be many girls out on Pandora, and the mortality rates, so he’d shelled out for his last week on Earth. Between genemods and the kinds of surgery places like that could afford, she’d practically been built for fucking. Thighs for days, an ass like a fuckin’ balloon, lips perfectly moulded to fit around a cock… God, one of the nights he’d had her for, he’d gone to sleep in her mouth and woken up the same way.

He pictured that, trying to recapture the moment of waking with a supermodel wrapped around his manhood, her enthusiastic suction. He didn’t get it, but it did feel good. He groaned lowly, his other hand clenching and unclenching on his side, kneading his muscles. The back of his head met the wall behind him gently, mouth open as he breathed heavily. 

The marine could feel himself getting closer to the edge - embarassingly quickly; he wasn’t a fucking teen. Maybe he’d just gone too long without. But something about the image, his mouth plugged up with a cock big enough it strained, his throat stretched-

Wait, that wasn’t right. 

The marine stopped, thrown out of the headspace he wanted. He was a guy. He  _ received _ head, he didn’t give it. Well, except for that one time. But Oscar hadn’t had a girl for years, and he was a good friend. Would have been wrong to leave him to his issues. So what if he’d kinda liked it?

Still, even  _ if _ it’d felt kinda good then, this wasn’t about that. This was about getting some goddamn relief for  _ his _ dick. 

Ricken closed his eyes again, trying to get back into the mood. On the bright side, his cock was still up for it. The image floated before him: that room, the thrum of cars on the roads below, the glow of holo-lights through the red curtains. Her, bent over the bed, bubble-butt out and ready, oh so ready for him. The blond climbed to his feet, leaning over to support himself against the wall. He took himself in hand again as he pictured sliding slowly into that wet heat, just tight enough to be perfect without preventing easy entry. Just the memory was enough to make the marine moan softly. It really was amazing what you could do with enough money.

His pace quickened as he pictured the scene further - his hands on her sides, slotting neatly above her wide hips, pulling her ass towards his crotch. He could almost hear her pornstar-moans as he fucked into her imagined pussy, his wet hand playing the part well. He paused for a moment to grab the bodywash and drizzle a quantity into his hand, working it briefly to warm it up before going back to his eager cock. Sure enough, the lubrication was worth the momentary pang of need and deprivation, and before long he was stroking himself closer to completion. The pleasure all but rippled through his body. God, he was weak at the fucking knees from the force of it.

As he felt his orgasm coming on, though, Ricken’s mind seemed to slip, and suddenly he wasn't picturing a love hotel on Earth anymore. Skin washed from dusky tan-brown to vibrant blue, and suddenly he wasn’t in control anymore. His hand was no longer his own. It moved out of his control, and behind his closed eyes seemed to grow. He wasn’t the one fucking, he was head-down in the bed, getting railed by a monolithic force, too big to fight. With a shock, the marine realized that he wasn’t holding himself up with one hand anymore - no, his face was pressed into the wall and that hand was pumping in and out of his ass, slick with the same bodywash he’d covered the other with.

With a wrench, the marine pulled himself from the fantasy. What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d been picturing himself getting fucked - getting fucking  _ nailed to the bed _ \- by one of the natives! And he wasn’t a sub! He’d never gotten off to having stuff in ass!

_The fuck was in that drink they gave me?_ _Some kinda poison? Or a fucked-up aphrodisiac-type thing?_

It would explain why his dick’s  _ still _ rock-fucking hard. And it’d be a nice explanation that doesn’t involve acknowledging that  _ he _ wants to get railed by one of the natives - so he took it. It wasn’t him, it was whateverthefuck they’d fed him. Maybe if he just… worked it out, it would help? After all, it wasn’t  _ his _ fault. It was that… liquid.

Experimentally, the marine shifted two fingers still in his ass. Sparks of pleasure spread through his abdomen. His cock jumped in his hand, and he began to stroke himself again. 

It was like a dam had burst; images rushing forwards as Ricken’s arousal built to a fever-pitch.  _ Na’vi carrying him away into the jungle, tearing off his clothes with that monstrous strength of theirs and having their way with him _ . A third finger slipped in, reaching deeper, feeling for something he’d heard of- there! The marine yelled, the sound muffled only by the wall itself.  _ The size of their hands as they folded him in on himself, ass in the air, and the size of their cocks as they bounced him like a fucking fleshlight.  _ The hand around his cock grew in his mind, left his control, wasn’t his own. A three-fingered hand stroked him closer to completion.  _ How  _ big  _ would they be? Would he be able to fit them? _ The hand left him. A fourth finger entered. The marine’s very vision seemed to shift as the hand that had been pumping his member instead went to support himself, so vividly he pictured the scene.  _ Being used by the blue giants like a toy, a pet, a cock-hungry prize begging for everything- _

Ricken came like an avalanche, white seed painting the wall as his dick seemed to wring itself dry. The moment seemed to last forever, stretching out over seconds, until finally he came down from the high and was left staring dazedly at the results of his ecstasy.

_ What- What the fuck? _

There was a hallucinatory edge to the moment as the marine extracted his hand from his ass and blearily washed the cum off the wall, then himself again.

_ What the fuck did I just do? _

Of course, it wasn’t a real question. He’d just come the hardest he ever had in his life, with almost a full fist up his ass, to fantasies of being used as a- a war-prize whore by the blue monkeys. 

Unbidden, the marine’s mind conjured images of what it would feel like, to be fucked like that for real. He was a large man, had been even before a tour of duty on Pandora. It’d take a real stud to do anything like the same to him, lift him up and toy with him…

_ And there’s plenty just like that outside _ , some traitorous part of him whispered. He pushed it down.

If he limped a little as he left the showers, clothed again, and collapsed into his bed without a second thought, no-one commented or saw fit to wake him.

* * *

Ricken was in hell.

Well, the joke that Pandora was Hell Grown Over was an old one on the base, but now it felt like he’d been given a special little circle all to himself. Because whatever the damn monkeys had done to him  _ hadn't stopped _ . If anything, it had only gotten worse, ebbing and flowing with the hours. One minute he was functional, the next he was near-gasping with arousal. 

What was almost worse was that, with the end of the short-lived war, he and the other marines just didn’t have that much to do. Normally, this would have been a good thing - a marine not having much to do usually meant A) more time for fun stuff and B) that shit wasn’t going downhill. Right now, though, the shit had already reached the bottom, and there just wasn’t anything  _ at all _ to occupy his time, fun or otherwise. Which itself was bad, because it meant he didn’t have anything to distract him from his dick, his ass and their ever-present demands. Sure, it got better and worse, but it never  _ went away _ . Give him a minute without something to keep his mind busy and the fantasies would bubble up. 

Getting to sleep was an exercise in frustration; he needed to jack off at least once, and most often more than that, before his body would shut down for a while. It wasn’t just him, though. Most of them tried to hide it, but each night the barracks filled with stifled groans and the telltale sounds of masturbation. And that was just at night. The marine was getting himself off five or six times a day, and just working his cock never brought him over the edge - he needed something in his hole to get off, and while fingers did the job he wanted more.

Ricken made it through five days before he gave in. It wasn’t really planned; he was getting out of the showers just as another guy came in - Michael, he thought his name was, another marine - and caught an eyeful of the man’s rock-hard cock just as the liquid fire inside leapt up. Almost before he knew what he was doing, the marine was going down on Michael’s dick in one of the cubicles, and not long after that he’d been turned around, pressed up against the wall and railed properly. After that, fingers just hadn’t sufficed. Sure, they felt good, but more often than not he’d had the other marine’s cock up his ass instead, filling him up. 

Michael had only been the first, though. He wasn’t small, but he wasn’t exactly massive either, and day by day Ricken’s body seemed to grow accustomed to his size. Finally, Michael simply couldn’t satisfy, and the marine moved on.

Over the next two weeks, he fucked his way through practically the entire male garrison. Occasionally someone else would bottom for him, and that was nice enough, he supposed, but what he really craved was the feeling of  _ fullness _ . He worked his way up the sizes, until finally he was riding the dick of Joshua ‘Stallion’ Page, a lab tech with a reputation around the base for being hung like a horse. Josh lasted a good four days, but in the end even he couldn’t satisfy.

And pickings had been drying up, too. Ricken’s world had faded into a haze of arousal, but even he could tell that there just weren’t as many people on the base as there were before. 

* * *

Pandoran nights were hot and sticky at the best of times. Right now, Ricken was experiencing a whole new level of that. The marine tossed and turned in his bunk, barely resisting the constant urge to rut against the sheets. Page had stretched his ass out something fierce, but even with that lingering ache he felt empty, unfulfilled. 

The groans and wet sounds of sex or masturbation were all but a constant background in the barracks by this point. Slowly, though, Ricken sank down into sleep, exhausted by the day’s exertions.

_ The marine stood alone in the depths of the forest. He was in full gear, with a gun in his hand. Around him, the dark hulks of the trees loomed up into the starry blackness above. Constellations of bioluminescence swirled around him, fungi and vines glowing with spots of colour. Howls and strange gibberings echoed through the dim jungle. Ricken’s shirt was already starting to stick to him with sweat.  _

_ Something snapped behind him. He turned. The star-patterned darkness offered up no culprit. He raised his gun, an assault rifle, of the standard model that the RDA forces had used.  _

_ A liquid growl flowed through the woods. He swivelled towards it and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked, empty. _

_ “Shit.” _

_ He dropped it and ran. The thing was behind him, crashing through the undergrowth, snapping at his heels. He ran like a man possessed. All he knew was that he couldn’t let  _ it _ get him.  _

_ Trees and branches tore at his arms and hair and clothes, seeming to grab with wills of their own. His flak vest caught on one, and he shimmied out of it just in time to avoid the snap of shining teeth. His jacket was too bulky, and somehow he managed to get out of that too. Piece by piece, Pandora stripped him bare. _

_ Finally, the boughs parted before him to reveal -  _

A Na’vi warrior, greatbow in hand. Ricken was uncomfortably close, having to tip his head back to get a look at the Pandoran native. 

Leather and bone armour covered one shoulder and wove across his broadly-muscled chest. An odd kind of belt was strapped across his abdomen, widening over his stomach into a plate of chitinous armour. The lower side of the thing dipped down to almost touch the medallion of dull, silvery metal that bound the centre of the girdle-belt that seemed to hold up the alien’s patterned loincloth. Though from what Ricken could see the garment had little to actually do with modesty; it was free-hanging, more like a crotch-mounted banner than anything, while a set of close-fitting leather straps formed something closer to actual underwear.

Ricken was suddenly very conscious of how dry his mouth had gone. Perhaps it was a trick of the light of Polyphemus, but he was sure that even under the surely-restricting straps and the loose-hanging loincloth he could see a telltale bulge.

A breeze trailed warm fingers across the marine’s skin, and it was only then that he realized that he was all but naked, the only cloth on him the briefs he’d worn to bed. He wasn’t cold - if anything he was hot, his skin flushed - but he felt bare under the yellow-eyed stare of the blue giant.

“Nga kanom ’awpo nìteng? Etrìpa syayvi.”

Ricken blinked. It was only when she spoke that he noticed the second alien; a tall, slim woman dressed similarly. Her white teeth were bared - no smiling - at the male, who was rolling his eyes. “Poan hona. Sayrìpsi txur’ur, kxawm, ketsran fko tawtute.”

The woman waved a hand, laughing, and walked away, leaving Ricken alone with the male. His tongue wetted his lips. His skin prickled and his dick jumped in his briefs. He felt trapped in those yellow pools, the black abysses at their centres dragging him in magnetically. 

“I… don’t speak… Your language,” he began, but before he could get any further the alien crouched down on his haunches until his head was almost on a level with Ricken’s.

“Not words now,” he whispered, surprisingly quietly for such a large being. A three-fingered hand crept behind Ricken’s head, settling into the short stubble of his military haircut. Something electric sparked from the contact. The pressure increased a little as a second hand wound around his lower back, pulling him forwards. His forehead met the Na’vi’s and the electric feeling came again, sparking through him from the point of contact to the soles of his feet. 

The marine reached forwards, seeking more of the feeling. After a moment he hooked his hands around the Na’vi’s upper arms. The alien chuckled, a light sound, and stood, pulling the marine upwards and into his arms to hold him close against the broad, blue chest. Reflexively, the marine’s legs swung up and around the warrior’s abdomen, while his face was all but forced into the crook of his neck. This close, the Na’vi smelled of… something. Like a mix between spice and sweat. Whatever it was, it went to his head and his dick, causing it to strain against the confines of his briefs even more, which in turn meant his dick was probably leaking against the Na’vi’s stomach-armour.

The marine felt the alien begin to move, one hand holding him up while the other grabbed his bow. Moments later, Ricken was watching the fences of the compound disappear into the foliage as his carrier ate up the distance with loping strides, almost seeming to dance through the dense undergrowth.

“S-so, I’m, uh, Ricken. Warders. Do you have a name?”

“Irato,” the alien replied, a curious sing-song tone to his voice. Ricken could feel the thrum of it in his chest. “Tipani clan is mine.”

The marine tried to think back to the briefings on the indigenous.  _ Tipani clan _ . He’d not paid too much attention, and it was hard to think with the blood pulsing in his ears and crotch, but… “Warrior clan?”

He couldn’t see Irato’s face, but he got the sense of a smile. “Yes. You are warrior too, yes?”

“Marine.”

“Defeated,” the alien replied, a statement of fact. 

“...True.” A thought crossed the marine’s mind. “You know… my people haven’t really been… defeated before. Not like this.”

“This is strange. You are so… small. But all are defeated sooner or later. This is the way of the world - none rise so high they cannot be taken down.”

“I… think we did.”

“And now you fall, and become ours,” the alien replied. “Is it so bad?”

Ricken wanted to protest, defend the honor of himself and his nation - god, his  _ species _ \- but somehow he can’t. Instead, he could only nuzzle further into Irato’s neck. Another chuckle rumbled through him, then a piercing whistle. A moment later, the rush of wings descended from the canopy. The marine couldn’t see what it was, held as he was, but he could hear it’s soft growl.

“Shhshh, Wintsyal. Poan lu.” Irato’s free hand moved to his queue and pulled it out of sight. The growling halted. The hand holding the marine against the blue body shifted, there was a blur of motion and he found himself lying on his back on something which was warm, moved, and when he turned his head sideways, had wings.  _ A banshee _ , he realized. 

“Be still. I must tie you, so you do not fall off.”

The words seemed to pin Ricken in place, pleasure rippling through him as he obeyed. It tingled up his legs as he felt them tied together at the ankles around the banshee’s neck, and his arms as they were bound to the saddle. Overhead, the jungle leaves blotted out the stars, but formed their own constellations with spots of bioluminescence. The marine had a long moment to wonder why he’d been tied to the beast this way around before his question was answered. 

The alien hopped aboard the banshee nimbly, placing his feet atop the stirrups. The marine found his view filled with blue flesh, two heavy balls falling into his face. Each was the size of both of his own together. His nose was filled with the same slightly-spicy musk as before. Almost instinctively, he opened his mouth and began to lap at them, drawing an approving noise from Irato. The taste of them was just as good as the smell, so he kept on at it, massaging the heavy sacs for all his was worth.

At some unseen signal, the banshee bunched its legs beneath him and took off into the air. The change in position pulled Irato’s testes from Ricken’s mouth and left him face to face with the alien’s taint instead. Not one to slack off, he continued his ministrations. 

Time faded into a confused blur of motion, taste and arousal as the marine worshiped the alien’s crotch. The banshee soared and dipped amongst the Pandoran canopy, but Ricken could see none of if, too absorbed in his task. Finally, though, the banshee alighted and Irato dismounted. A whine of disappointment tore itself from the marine’s throat as the object of his affections was removed. 

“Did you enjoy, tawtute? It was good for you to find your place, I think.” 

Clever hands untied him from the banshee and lifted him up, bridal-style.   
  
“You were good, tawtute. You come, sleep with me.”

The Na’vi carried Ricken down a long branch, wide as a road. A stairway cut into the immense trunk of the tree wound downwards, then out again. Webbed hammocks were strung between the boughs. Irato laid the human down in one of these, took the time to strip off his armour and then climbed in himself, careful not to crush the small creature. It grabbed at him and, indulgently, he drew it close as the hammock closed over them both.  
  


* * *

  
**Translations**

“Neu tsa’u, tawtute?” : “Want that, sky person (i.e. human)?”

“Nga kanom ’awpo nìteng? Etrìpa syayvi.” : “You’ve got one too? Good luck.”

“Poan hona. Sayrìpsi txur’ur, kxawm, ketsran fko tawtute.” : “He’s cute. Handsome and strong-looking, even, for a sky person.”

“Poan lu.” : “He is mine.”

Please note that I don't speak fluent Na'vi or anything like that. I've constructed these sentences based on the dictionary. If anyone has improvements, please tell me.


	2. Connection

The position of homosexuality amongst the Na’vi is both a complex and simple matter: Complex in that layers of ritual and cultural expectation surround homosexual partnerships, simple in that those rituals and expectations are close to identical to those surrounding heterosexual partnerships. Most likely due to the influence of Eywa, a culture which does not prize childbirth above all other purposes in a woman’s life and the lack of a strong line of delineation between ‘male’ and ‘female’ roles (save in a few ritual instances), many of the prejudices which developed in human societies around the practice of homosexuality simply do not exist in Na’vi culture, and remained a steady and stable minority within the population up until the Joining. Homosexual couples also fulfilled a vital social function, often taking in children orphaned by accident, in raiding or due to the realities of life on Pandora and raising them as their own.

Needless to say, this state of affairs was strained and finally shattered following the Pandoran War; first by the massive influx of human  _ munxta simuva _ , then by the Lysistrata retrovirus released by the RDA, and finally by the response of Eywa to the crisis. 

**\- Ennel te Warders Weylrr’fil, _A Record of Humanity on Pandora_**

* * *

Ricken awoke feeling warm, fuzzy and with a strange taste in his mouth. The warmth of skin against his own had become almost familiar recently, so that didn’t really surprise him. He opened his eyes to see who he’d ended up in bed with this time. Blue. He blinked. Still blue. And… that was a very big chest. That he was sucking on.

A very big, blue chest.

The marine tilted his face upwards, relinquishing the nipple that he’d been nursing in favour of seeing the face of his new bedmate. He was met with a gleaming smile of white, sharp teeth, a flat, catlike nose and two yellow eyes.

_ Am I still dreaming? _

“No. You are awake. Come up here.”

The voice was deep, slightly lyrical, and it seemed almost to tug at Ricken’s body physically. He wriggled where he lay, working out what was where. He was… on his side, facing the native. He looked down and caught sight of a swollen nipples, a slightly darker blue than the the rest of his chest and damp where he… he really had been suckling on it, hadn’t he?

An arm worked its way under his body and picked him up, drawing him on top as Irato (that’s his name, right?) shifted onto his back. The marine found himself straddling the alien’s stomach, inhumanly thin proportionally but still broad enough that he had to spread his legs wide to fit. Then hands caught under his armpits and drew him up so that he was face to face with Irato, still smiling a pointed smile.

“You are  _ lor _ \- ah, beautiful? Yes. Look good on me.”

Ricken was suddenly acutely conscious of how hard he was in his briefs, and of the fact that he had been unconsciously rutting against the alien’s taut stomach. Overtaken, he wrapped his hands around Irato’s head and pressed their lips together. 

It was a strange experience, kissing someone with a mouth about twice as large as his own. Ricken was a large man; he rarely felt small. Here, though, he felt almost overwhelmed by the sheer size of his partner, the way he had to move his lips to reach the whole of Irato’s mouth, and his tongue, testing the opening given him, was matched by the very tip of the other’s.

He liked it.

He dived hungrily back into the kiss, opening his mouth and plunging his tongue into the others’s. He felt the sharp points of Irato’s teeth and the fluid mass of his tongue. The alien’s mouth tasted odd; pleasant, but with a similar spiced flavour to everything else. The Na’vi seemed content to let him explore as he felt large hands run down his body and cup his ass through his briefs. 

Then the pace of the kiss changed. Ricken found himself being driven from the alien’s mouth, tongue forced back into his own and followed by that of Irato. It filled his mouth almost entirely, pressing his tongue down into his palate and tickling the top of his throat. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being devoured, especially as the hands on his ass began to squeeze and massage the muscles. He let out a breathless moan that died somewhere between his mouth and Irato’s vanishing into the duelling flesh of their tongues. 

A hand moved from his ass to the back of the marine’s head, pulling him in even closer. It felt like the alien was trying to put his tongue all the way down Ricken’s throat. It was inhuman, and  _ wonderful _ . The kiss just didn’t let up. He was feeling light-headed. He… 

He came back to himself, looking down into the concerned face of Irato. “Are you well? You- stopped. For some  _ hikrr _ . Seconds.”

“Y-yeah, I’m...fine. I… must have blacked out?”

The alien blinked, big yellow eyes eclipsing slowly. “Is this common for you?”

Ricken couldn’t help but chuckle. “Not usually. But then usually we don’t have giant hot blue aliens sucking all the air out of us.”

“You are alien here, not I. We are Na’vi. But I was not… sucking? You know how to breathe with,” Irato tapped the wide bridge of his nose. “While mouth is full, yes?”

“Uh, no. That’s not really a thing we can do, not when something’s going all the way down the throat,” Ricken replied. “Tubes are linked up.”

“You are strange creatures,” irato said. “Your Kifkeyfpìl made you badly.”

“Kif-what?”

“Kifkeyfpìl. It is… I am Na’vi, you are tawtute, Eywa is Kifkeyfpìl. It means… thinking world.”

“Like a god?” It occurred to the marine how strange it was to have this conversation when they’d been making out just a moment ago.

“That is… somewhat alike. But, I think we have better things to do now.” That pink tongue lapped at the full, blue lips, and Ricken couldn’t resist diving in for another long, fierce kiss. When he eventually came up for air, panting, he found the Na’vi looking up at him with a soft light in his eyes. “Hona...”

“What?”

“I will have to teach you the lì’fya - this language. But ‘hona’ is… Good to look at, in a… small way. Makes you want to protect...”

“Cute?”

“Ah! Yes. Grace called the children that. You are  _ cute _ .”

Ricken frowned at the thought. He’d been called hot, sexy and plenty of other things before, but never cute. “Why d’you think I’m cute?”

“Part of it is… you are small, but fierce. But it is more that you want me so much. You have never stopped grinding against me since I found you - even in your sleep.”

Ricken felt the heat of a blush in his cheeks but - yes, even while they’d been talking, he’d been rhymically thrusting against Irato’s stomach. 

“I will give you something, now,” continued the Na’vi. “Turn around.” 

It was a little awkward to do so in the mobile, stretching hammock, much less atop another's body. He managed in the end, though, and was rewarded with the sight of the subtle bulge beneath Irato’s loincloth, the material trailing down between his legs. He felt almost afraid to look - but not afraid enough to stop him. He brought a hand around and pushed the cloth aside, revealing the organ that lay beneath.

The marine’s first thought was that it was weirdly human-looking. No weird bumps, no ridges, no spines. Just… blue, really. His second thought was  _ big _ . It didn’t look fully hard, curving downwards with gravity, but even then it was at least two inches around, and maybe eight, nine long. Hesitantly, he touched it. It was warm and twitched gently at the contact. His fingers wrapped around it, lifting its length. It hardened as he did so, swelling and lengthening. The scent of it drew him in like a moth to light. His mouth, dry, opened, and almost instinctively he closed his lips around the smooth head. 

The taste was even better. Ricken had to keep his jaw as far open as it would go to accommodate the cock’s sheer girth, but that didn’t stop his tongue from exploring every part of it that he could reach. He hooked his hands underneath the Na’vi’s legs and used that to pull himself further onto the massive member. The feeling of the head pressing insistently against the top of his throat sent a shudder through the marine’s body. Images flashed through his brain, of the cock reaching all the way through there, so that it was even visible through his neck. The image of the lewd bulge of the organ sheathed in him drew a low moan which vibrated through the cock.

Large, cool hands splayed over his ass, pulling the cheeks apart. Ricken was suddenly very aware of his briefs, and the way they restricted his own cock. The moan turned into a whine. A finger hooked beneath the material of the back, revealing his ass properly. The elastic pulled the material back, though, and the marine heard a rumble of disapproval. “This will go.”

So saying, the Na’vi bent his head forwards and bit down on the fabric stretched tight over the marine’s ass, then pulled. It tore audibly, exposing his hole, still a little puffy and tender from the pleasurable abuse it had received over the last week. Irato licked his lips, pulling the cheeks apart again to get a better look. He frowned a little at the hair that grew there. “No, no this is not good.”

Ricken felt like pouting when he felt the firm hands leave his cheeks, the gentle breeze on his hole fading, and actually let out a whimper when they moved to pull him off the cock he was so happily suckling on. He found himself looking to Irato as he pulled himself out of the hammock and lifted the marine out after him. The Na’vi bent down and began to search through his few belongings before pulling out what looked like a bundle wrapped in a plain cloth. “Come, we must visit ‘umtsayu,” he said, before setting off down the tree. Ricken couldn’t help but trot behind him, his eyes following the sway of the alien’s tail and, between the arch of his legs, the fat, pendulous head of his cock. 

The village seemed to be waking up, many of the hammocks filled with sleeping Na’vi, some couples, some with a group of children dozing in many-limbed tangles. But for every two or three he passed, he spotted another human. Some he recognized distantly - a marine he’d seen at the gym but never spoken to, a scientist he’d escorted into the jungle to collect some some sample or reading, an admin who wouldn’t shut up during a briefing. Every one was in some state of undress and every one was cozied up to one or another of the natives. As the pair trailed down the spiralling paths of the tree, Ricken saw more than one pair, and even a set of two Na’vi and a human, engaged in various kind of coitus.

As they came to the base of the village, Irato guided them to a large mound. A thin strand of smoke unwound from an unseen hole towards the top. The Na’vi led them around it until they came to a curtain of vines, which he lifted and gestured for Ricken to pass inside. The room within was clay-walled, with dozens, maybe hundreds, of smooth sticks projecting from the walls forming an array of shelves upon which sat a myriad of gourds, pots and stranger things. A small fire flickered merrily away in its center around a trio of stones, beside a small tripod upon which hung a hide bag. A sweet smell emanated from the bag. Beside the fire, on a carved stool, sat another of the Na’vi, with what looked like a sheet of leather lying over his lap. His yellow eyes flickered up to the entrance, then back to the bubbling sack. Ricken guessed that, standing, he would maybe be a little shorter than Irato, but he was certainly slimmer and less well-muscled. 

The marine was surprised at the warm upwelling of pride and smugness upon realizing that. It was a feeling like when he’d been in high school and had managed to score a date with one of the cutest girls.

As Irato bent down to enter - the doorway had been almost half again Ricken’s height - the Na’vi pulled a handful of something powdery from a pot on the ground beside him, toss it into the sack and stir the contents with a smooth stick. When he withdrew it, it dripped something that looked like honey. 

“Oel ngati kameie,” said Irato. The sitting Na’vi echoed the same words, then continued. “Nga kanom ’awpo nìteng?”

Irato nodded. 

“Etrìp. Ma’fil fnan kìte’e si oe. Pelun za’u?”

Irato stepped further into the domed room, finding a stool of his own. Unsure of what exactly to do, Ricken followed and, finding nowhere to sit that wouldn’t look like a kid trying to sit in an adult’s place, went to sit on the ground. Before he could, though, three-fingered hands hooked under his arms and lifted him before depositing him in Irato’s lap.

“Etrìp. Ma’fil fnan kìte’e si oe.”

Ricken could feel a blush bloom on his cheeks as he was placed in his Na’vi’s lap like a child. He squirmed a little but was forced to settle when a heavy hand gently pressed on his shoulder. He could feel Irato’s gaze on him like a physical weight. The thick, hot bulge beneath his ass was all too noticeable. He managed to find a comfortable position with the shaft settled between his asscheeks. Looking down, he could see its bulbous head dripping a steady, slow stream of precum onto the smooth floor. The memory of that head in his mouth flickered through the marine’s mind, causing his own cock to throb and twitch in its fabric prison. Unconsciously, he ground back on the thick cock. 

“Lu muxta simuva lekin laro si. Poan lehawng nikre lu,” said Irato, speaking over Ricken’s head.

“Ah. Fì’u lepxìmrun. Hipey.” The other Na’vi gestured to the bubbling mixture. Irato brought his hand to Ricken’s hair, combing through it. It felt great - calming. The thought that he was being petted barely even occurred to the marine. 

“This is Häma. He is ‘umtsayu - brew-maker. He says it will be a little while, and then we can clean you.” The alien’s other hand moved to the human’s crotch, where the fabric of his briefs was being pulled away from his flesh by his engorged manhood. He indicated Ricken’s pubes, which he hadn’t really paid much attention to in a long while. “This hair here, and by your txìm - ass. It is not good. You will be smooth, yes?”

A pang of shame that the Na’vi didn’t consider him to be ideal stung through Ricken. Craning his head back, he nodded. “That’s good,” he said, quietly. Then, a moment later, as he remembered the dark, bubbling liquid, ”Uh, is it going to hurt?” 

Irato blinked his big, yellow eyes, then bared his teeth in a whooping laugh. 

“Kempe poan lawk?” said the other Na’vi, stirring the mixture again.

“Poan pawm txo tsat tìsraw seyki.”

Häma grinned as well. “Pelun tung oeru oeyktìng? ‘Fil, wrrza’u.”

Ricken wasn’t sure what was going on, but was startled when he heard a third voice speak up from beneath the covering over Häma’s lap. “Kxìmyu, kempe kim oe?” The voice was distinctly human, and struck a chord in Ricken’s memory besides. He couldn't quite place it, though.

The cover shuffled before being lifted away, revealing the skinny he’d seen just after that whole thing with the tent and the big bowl-thing. The human was naked and his mouth kissing along Häma’s shaft, muttering out quiet words in Na’vi between his worship. His casual office attire had vanished, and if it weren't for how that day was seared into his memory. His chestnut hair, once in a rather conservative style, was impossibly long and done in a Na’vi braid, his skin painted with various markings he couldn’t begin to guess the meaning of, and what little he wore did nothing to conceal his form. Only a collection of necklaces and bracelets adorned his torso, while his legs bore only matching anklets. He wore something that looked vaguely like a leather jockstrap around his crotch, exposing his smooth, hairless ass and the wide, mahogany-coloured wooden knob which protruded from it, the base of what was evidently a dildo only a little smaller than the aliens’ cocks.

“Oeyktìng pehem ay len; sar ‘Ìnglìsì,” Häma ordered. The human pulled away from the Na’vi’s cock with a pleading, regretful look, but his master had already returned his attention to the the simmering liquid. 

Ricken was still wide-eyed in surprise when the boyish human turned to face him, pouting, and in doing so exposed the fact that the garment he wore around his crotch held what looked like some kind of hard nut-shell over his cock and balls, confining them while still lending him a significant bulge.  _ Why would he need them? _ some part of the marine asked, while another couldn’t help but picture his own genitals locked away in the same manner. He couldn't decide whether it aroused or scared him.

“So, you wanna know what’s going to happen?” The twinky sub looked Ricken up and down. “Your master’s gonna spread you out, then Kxìmyu’ll apply that,” he pointed to the bubbling liquid. “A few minutes later you’ll soak it off and voila - you’ll be all smooth. It’ll take a little while to get ready, though.”

“Uh,” the marine started to say, but before he could get a word out the other human, seemingly satisfied, had returned to his master’s cock, carefully kissing up the side before opening his mouth wide and taking the head and the first few inches of it into his throat. 

Ricken glanced up at Irato to confirm this, only to see he was engaged in a quiet conversation with Häma. Unused to being ignored so casually, he started looking around the room once more. trying to guess at the use for each of the substances stored away. No matter how much he tried to distract himself, though, his gaze kept drifting back to the other human in the room. While Ricken seemed uncomfortable being left and ignored, the twink was more than happy, having stretched his lips over Häma’s cock while trying to suck the tip down. 

The marine’s mind wandered to when he’d been in a very similar position, not minutes before. He remembered the taste of Irato’s head in his mouth, the feeling of being taken over by the sheer size of it. 

He squirmed on the Na’vi’s lap, trying to get down to the floor, but an arm looped around his stomach to hold him in place. Irato broke off from his conversation to look down. “What is it?”

“I, uh, want to get down,” Ricken said.

“Why?”

“I… I wanna suck your dick, okay?”

The Na’vi smiled pointily. The hand moved, allowing him to get up. He did so, sliding down to the floor before turning around and hesitantly climbing to his knees. The head of the blue cock bobbed before him, a large, slow droplet of precum gathering at its tip.

Ricken began to lap at Irato’s cock, working down the shaft with his tongue before returning to the tip and making his way down once more. Licking the cock clean before moving up to the tip. Opening as wide as he could, he swallowed the head, his tongue working on the pulsing blue cock, gulping around the shaft as pre-cum began to flow out of the tip. He could feel a gaze on his back but dismissed it quickly as he took more of the shaft into his mouth.

“Poan tikelu tsulfä, ngian poan lam tìso’ha,” he heard Häma say. In answer, Irato made a noise of agreement. “Kxawm, ngian aly tskxekeng,” he said in reply, before the cock in Ricken’s mouth throbbed and a hand on his head pressed him gently further down the shaft. It was an effort to take it in, but the salty-spicy taste of it made him go even further, try to take it deeper. The blunt head pushed against the top of his throat, and he felt the impulse to gag rising. 

“Breathe through your nose,” Irato mumbled above him, his hand holding Ricken in place. The impulse lingered, but with the order it faded a little. Holding himself in place on Irato’s cock for a minuet, he practiced breathing through his nose while his throat was occupied. Eventually the desire to gag faded and he began to swallow more of the Na’vi cock. The pressure on the back of his head lessened as he swallowed more. It was difficult to tell exactly how much he had taken in, but from the distance to the alien’s hairless crotch Ricken guessed it was maybe half, probably a little less than that. The thought made his head spin; he could feel that cock on his throat, slowly working it open, and that wasn’t even all of it. 

The pressure resumed, but the cock didn’t seem like it would go any further. He was feeling light-headed and short of breath when it relented once more, gently drawing Ricken off the member some way before pushing back in again. Slowly, Irato built up a rhythm, fucking in and out of the human’s willing mouth. Before long the hand left entirely, leaving the marine to fuck himself on the Na’vi’s manhood. He was more than willing, and his own cock grew even harder in what remained of his briefs, straining against the fabric. Dimly, he was aware of the aliens conversing somewhere above him, but he didn’t really listen, too absorbed in his self-appointed task.

Irato himself was thoroughly enjoying his human’s enthusiasm. The human seemed to love fucking himself on his cock, and the flutter of his throat convulsing around its girth was delightful. Every swallowing plunge resulted in a little more of his cock disappearing into Ricken’s mouth. The conversation paused as both Na’vi became more engrossed in the ministrations of their  _ munxta simuva _ . Looking across the room, he could see that Häma’s had managed to take his entire cock, pale skin flush with Häma’s groin. The image of Ricken one day being capable of the same sent a frisson of pleasure through the hunter. 

With a groan and a shudder, Häma came, his hands moving to his human's head as he held the man firmly against him. He looked up adoringly as he drank every last drop of his cum.. Irato could see the subtle swell of the human’s stomach as he finally pulled away, releasing Häma’s hard cock from his mouth to stand proud against his stomach, before the human craned upwards to lick it clean of the last traces of cum. Just as the smaller human finished, Irato felt his own apex approach. He groaned as his cock began to pulse.

The sudden flood of hot seed down his throat caught Ricken by surprised. Unprepared, he began to pull back. The first few surges came early enough to shoot straight down his throat to be swallowed, but when the head reached his mouth another blast of cum flooded over his tongue. Caught unawares again, he jerked backwards off the cock entirely, only for another stream of cum to catch him square in the face, coating his mouth and dripping down his neck. Now freed of his throat Irato’s cock bobbed and flailed as he came, covering Ricken’s face entirely in cum - forehead, hair, nose and all. He had to close his eyes to avoid getting it in them, and some part of him wondered just how large his master’s discharge was, even as another distantly remembered the taste of that great bowl - god, had it only been a week ago? - and realized what had been in it. As Iratos’ climax finally tapered off, RIcken’s face was coated in thick, sticky cum, which was quickly drying in the jungle heat. 

Ricken went to wipe it off with his hand, even as his tongue peeked out to start licking up what he could of it, but his wrist was caught in a vice-like grip. “No. You are mine, and what I give you keep, yes? Now, ‘umtsa is ready.” Irato helped Ricken to his feet, then pointed past him. “Face this way, and remove… what you call these?” The Na’vi indicated the white briefs that Ricken wore.

The marine obeyed, slipping the garments off and exposing his raging hard-on, before turning. He saw that two large stones had been removed from the sack of bubbling material and set amidst the embers of the fire. The sack itself was no longer bubbling, and seemed to have cooled down somewhat.  _ How long was I… busy _ ? Ricken asked himself? The other Na’vi seemed to be ladling a quantity of the syrupy-looking substance inside into a small pot - a small pot by the standards of the natives, at least. The used-to-be-admin-guy had vanished at some point. 

Having filled the pot, Häma strode across the room towards Ricken, then sank to one knee. Producing what looked like a paintbrush, he dipped it in the pot. “Remain still,” Irato said. “It will not take long.” As he spoke, Ricken felt the paintbrush against his crotch, spreading the substance - which, it turned out, felt more like treacle than anything else - across his pubes, then over his cock and the front of his balls. It was hot, but not quite uncomfortably so. He felt like squirming away from it, but obediently pushed down on the impulse. 

Suddenly, Ricken was pulled from his musings by a pair of arms gabbing him behind the knees and hoisting him up so that his legs bent almost against his chest. His ass was bare and exposed, and a moment later he felt the brush again, covering his balls, his taint and finally the cleft of his ass. Only when all was done was he let back down again. He could feel the substance cooling to a rubbery consistency.

Irato nodded to Häma and said something in Na’vi before putting a hand on Ricken’s shoulders to direct him from the hut. In the time they had been inside, the tribe seemed to have started their day. Ricken could see a group of what appeared to be hunters preparing a pack of Direhorses. He flushed beneath the drying cum when one of the hunters noticed Irato, and then glanced down at him. He couldn’t quite tell what his expression was, but the rest of the hunters turned to look at him and his master, talking to each other in Na’vi, a jovial tone to their voices.

Irato didn’t bat an eye when the hunters started shouting to him. “Sìltsan iaong‘fil, Irato! Kin srung hawl poan?” “Lie poan mi?” “Srätx zasrìn poan?” they called as the pair passed, grinning and making suggestive hip-thrusts, then laughed. Ricken blushed, but Irato was thinking of what his new pet might look like, shared between a party of hunters. 

The bathing pools of his tribe were serene. A sizable depression in the gound, a small waterfall feeding into a large pool that in turn fed several smaller pools, all of which drained into an underground river. Each pool was surrounded by smooth stones. Irato showed him the shells in which scented soaps and oils were kept, scattered around the edges of the pools. 

“Get in the water,” Irato said. “It will prepare the ‘umtsa to come off.”

Ricken did as he was told, balancing on the wide, flat stones until he came to the water’s edge. When he put a toe into the water, he expected it to be cold. Instead, it was lukewarm. He stepped further in, and before long was up to his waist. Irato strode up next to him, then sat down in the water. He gestured for Ricken to come closer, and when he did pulled him into his lap again. “What-?”

“Shh,” Irato soothed, hands slipping between the human’s legs to begin massaging gently at the point where the rubbery substance met his skin. “We will remove this, and then we can have some fun, yes?” As the large fingers kneaded the flesh, Ricken looked down and saw the brownish material begin to peel away, revealing baby-soft, hairless skin beneath. His cock, still trapped, strained against its rubbery confines.

As Irato revealed more and more flawlessly smooth skin, Ricken couldn’t help but reach down and trace his fingers over it. Even when he’d shaved before, some stubble remained behind, some indication that his hair was still there and just tamed for a time.He somehow knew that this time was final though, any trace of hair where the goop had been would forever more be smooth. The thought that Irato had forever altered his body for his pleasure sent a thrill through him. He could feel his cock strain harder, only to be held back. If he weren’t half-submerged, he was sure that he would have been leaking precum.

Irato quickly finished scraping away the substance between his legs, and what remained on his legs quickly fell away under his hands, dissolving in the clear flowing water. Looking down at his cock, he saw that any pubic hair he once had was long gone, his balls smooth and tight in their sack. He knew that his ass, once fuzzy with light hair, was equally smooth. As he thought this, he felt something brushing between his crack. Looking behind him, he saw one of Irato’s fingers was rubbing between his cheeks, letting the cool water caress his now hairless hole. Before he could say anything, the slender digit slipped further in and pressed against his hole, drawing a groan from the former marine. 

“Ah - ah, it’s...” Ricken cut himself off.

“Yes?”

“Big. Let… let me first. Then you.”

The alien blinked, golden orbs eclipsed by blue. Then he smiled. “Very good. You are… wonderful. Perfect.” He bent down and planted a kiss atop Ricken’s head. Warmth pulsed through him, warmth that had nothing at all to do with the natural heat of the water. “Now, is there anything you want me to do, while you make yourself ready for me?” The Na’vi rocked his hips upwards as he spoke, making it quite clear that he was still erect as ever.

“Wha- whatever you want,” Ricken said, then added. “Sir.”

Irato’s head tilted to the side. “Sir?”

“It’s, uh. Title of respect to a superior.”

“Sir,” Irato repeated, sounding the word out. “Alright. And you answered well.” He picked Ricken up again, turned and placed him facing the shore. “Now, prepare yourself, and I shall do what I want. Is this well with you?”

“Yes, sir.” Ricken bent over, getting to his knees on a patch of softer moss. He held his cheeks apart with one hand and began to explore the region around his hole, still a little stunned by the smoothness of the area. His fingers teased at the rim of his anus, still soft and pliant from the previous week of fucking it had gotten. Behind him, he heard the water shifting as Irato moved. A few seconds later, something cool and oily began to steadily drip onto his behind. Realizing that his master was giving him lube to work with, Ricken began to slowly work his hole open, first pressing the tip of a finger at the pucker, then going further in. He bit back a moan at the sensation. Somehow, the feeling of penetration, even by something as small as his finger, was more intense than before.

Eagerly, he plunged his finger into his hole, moaning at the intense sensation that shot through him. The single finger in him brought him more pleasure than any cock had before, and Ricken could feel his cock throbbing already. Hearing a hum from Irato, Ricken pressed a second finger in, the two digits scissoring him open, his hole easily stretching open at the pressure. He was surprised just how easily his body took the stretching. Even when he had been getting fucked, it would take more preparation than this for even one finger to fill him, and now he was easily taking two. 

A third finger quickly joined the first two, stretching him further open, his hole now gaping around his digits. The further he stretched himself, the better it felt and the harder his cock got beneath him, threatening to spill with every twitch of his fingers. As a fourth finger moved to his hole, he felt another trickle like earlier. Glancing behind himself, he saw Irato pouring a bit of the lube directly into his gaping hole, the slick quickly flowing into him and making him tingle with pleasure. With a nod, Irato stopped pouring and Ricken resumed stretching, his last finger entering his hole, all four digits stretching him wide. The faint burning sensation he had anticipated finally materialized, but only after he had taken nearly his entire fist. 

“Stop,” said Irato. “Now, me.” Ricken almost expected the Na’vi to thrust his cock in right then and there and prepared himself giddily for the intrusion, but what he felt instead was the massive, warm, wet slide of the alien’s tongue against his hole. He removed his fingers and put his arms down on the moss to hold himself up as Irato began to eat him out, first licking around the border of his asshole, then working his way inside. The sheer mass of the flexible organ made it a significant intrusion in itself, and before long it was thrusting in and out in a rhythm which wrung regular moans from the marine, even as Irato’s plump lips kissed his hole. His cock began to throb, precum dripping from the slit. Some part of him wondered at the fact that he was about to cum without his cock ever being touched.

“I’m gonna-” he started, but before he could continue Ricken felt something wrap around the base of his cock. Looking below, he saw Irato’s hand deftly tie a knot in a leather band he’d seen the Na’vi wear on one of his fingers. It tight enough to keep him from cumming, but not enough to be painful. 

“You may not, until I let you.” Irato said firmly. “Now, only a little longer.”

“A-alright, sir,” Ricken replied. His arms trembled as he worked to hold himself up. 

The Na’vi’s fingers, slick with oil, teased his rim for a moment before dipping inside. The first finger was as thick as a human cock, but to Ricken it just wasn’t enough. He pushed back on the hand, prompting Irato to add a second, then to split them apart. The human’s hole stretched around the intruding digits as they progressed further. Abruptly, they curled, striking a spot inside that made the human yell out in pleasure, and his bound cock jump to slap his stomach.

“Strange,” Irato murmured “How alike the Na’vi you tawtute are, in some ways. Now, did you like that?”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Would you like more?”

Ricken nodded desperately. “Yes sir.”

Suddenly, the fingers vanished, leaving his ass to clench on empty air. “Why do you deserve it, tawtute? Why do you deserve pleasure from the People, when you worked to burn our sacred places and steal our world?”

The sudden anger in Irato’s voice took Ricken by surprise. “I-”

A ringing slap echoed out over the pools. The marine’s ass stung, though he knew it wasn’t that hard by the standards of the natives. “Answer, tawtute.”

“I don’t! Sir. I don’t. But… I wanna earn it.”

“And how will you do that?”

“I’ll…” Images began to trickle through the marine’s brain. “I’ll serve you, do whatever you want. I’ll suck your cock, I’ll, I’ll dress however you want, I’ll do anything. Just… please, let me make it up to you. Please, sir.”

No slap came, but nothing else either. Ricken stared down at the moss as tears pricked at his eyes, and he realized that he wasn’t even begging to be fucked anymore. He was begging to be allowed forgiveness, to  _ do _ all of those things. Somewhere along the line, his own pleasure had become an afterthought to serving and obeying Irato, to doing anything he wanted  _ because _ he wanted it.

Then, a hot bluntness probed at the marine’s asshole. He could feel the pressure increasing against his rim, the earlier preparation still not quite sufficient for it to penetrate. As the pressure grew he could feel whatever resistance his ass was putting up quickly fading. He could hear Irato huff, before the pressure increased and the head of Irato’s shaft popped past his rim. He bit down on a yelp of pain. His hole tingled in pleasure and pain from the intrusion. Nothing he’d taken before even approached the size of the Na’vi. Ricken could feel his ass spasm around it, trying and failing to push the huge cockhead out. Thankfully, the pressure stopped after that, fading after a few moments to a dull throb while the pleasure remained. He could feel Irato’s heartbeat through his shaft, the cock throbbing and stretching him further with every beat. 

“There...” Irato murmured. “Is that good, ioang’fil?”

“Yes, sir… Thank you.” 

For a long minute, they remained still as the marine’s body became accustomed to Irato’s manhood. Slowly, the throbbing faded and Ricken began to become aware of a feeling of  _ fullness _ that he had never quite experienced before. It felt  _ right _ .

Impossibly slowly, the press began again, the impossible member pushing further inwards millimeter by millimeter. Ricken felt every minute feature of it, every vein and detail. His own cock jumped and wept in its binding, and he couldn’t help mentally comparing the two. The disparity brought a new flush of arousal. The slow, impossible force of it felt like it was rearranging his insides to fit, but the pressure which should have been causing him intense pain was only a dull throb. Meanwhile, the pleasure of it escalated with every further centimetre that pushed inside.

An arm looped around Ricken’s chest, and suddenly he found himself being pulled upright, his back flush to the Na’vi’s chest. Gravity pulled him down onto the immense phallus, but the arm held him up so he didn’t sink all the way down. 

“Do you think you can take all of me, ioang’fil?”

“I-I’ll try, sir,” Ricken said, and did his level best to relax as much as he could. He was rewarded with another inch or so sinking inside. He moaned at the burning pleasure of it, though he was starting to feel a little short of breath. Looking down, he thought he could see the faint outline of a bulge through his stomach.

Little by little, Irato’s cock sank further in until, finally, it would go no further. Looking down, Ricken felt a pang of disappointment as he found that he had only taken in maybe two-thirds of the Na’vi’s cock. He craned backwards, but the apology on his lips was stolen by a kiss. “You did well enough. We shall have more time to train you. For now, though...”

The arm shifted, lowering the marine until he was almost horizontal, then was joined by a second. Together, the arms turned Ricken around until he was facing the Na’vi, who stepped back into the water. The marine spread his legs around Irato’s midsection as he was pulled upright again and his face was pressed into his blue pectoral. The arms moved to his sides and, slowly at first, began to pull him off the cock, then lower him back down again. Little by little the pace quickened, and in between his yells of pleasure Ricken absently realized that he was being used like a living fleshlight, a warm, pliant hole for his master to fuck into. The thought of it went straight to his dick, which strained angrily in its confinement.

“P-please - Ah! - Sir, may I - Uh! - cum?”

“Not yet ioang’fil, you may not until I have.” Irato said as he started to thrust his hips in time with his pulling Ricken back onto his cock. He could see Ricken’s eyes roll up into his head, mouth stuck open in a perpetual moan. As his thrusting grew harder and faster, he could see Ricken’s stomach bulging out, his cock filling his pet completely. Glancing further down, he could see the humans cock, still bound and wildly flailing, was leaking constantly onto, him, splatters of pre-cum painting Ricken’s abs and chest. 

Moving towards the edge of the pool, Irato rested against the edge to readjust the human allowing him to sit up on his midsection, but not to escape his cock. He resumed his thrusts, bucking upwards even as he pulled Ricken’s hips down to meet him. The warrior felt his orgasm growing and, finally, began to cum inside, simultaneously pulling the improvised cockring off and releasing his pet’s own climax.

Ricken’s stomach bulged obscenely with the mass of seed poured into him, but any pain there might have been was eclipsed by the all-consuming bliss of both coming and satisfying his master.

It was minutes later that the former marine managed to pull together enough energy to pull his way up Irato’s body and whisper a faint “Thank you, sir,” before his lips were captured once again in a kiss.

* * *

**Translations**

“Oel ngati kameie” : “I see you”

“Nga kanom ’awpo nìteng?” : “You have one too?”

“Etrìp. Ma’fil fnan kìte’e si oe.” : “Fortunate. My toy is good at serving me. Why have you come?”

“Lu muxta simuva lekin laro si. Poan lehawng nikre lu.” : “My concubine needs cleaning. He has too much hair.”

“Ah, fì’u lepxìmrun. Hipey.” : “Ah, this is common. Wait a little while.”

“Kempe poan lawk?” : “What did he say?"

“Poan pawm txo tsat tìsraw seyki.” : “He asked if it will hurt.”

“Pelun tung oeru oeyktìng? ‘Fil, wrrza’u.” : “Why not let mine explain? Toy, come out.”

“Kxìmyu, kempe kim oe?” : “What should I do, master?”

“Oeyktìng pehem ay len; sar ‘Ìnglìsì” : “Explain what will happen; use English.”

“Poan tikelu tsulfä to lu ‘Fil, ngian poan lam tìso’ha” : “He is not quite as skilled as my pet, but he seems enthusiastic.”

“Kxawm, ngian aly tskxekeng,” : “Perhaps, but that will change with practice.”

“Sìltsan ioang‘fil, Irato! Kin srung hawl poan?” : “Nice pet, Irato! Need help training him?”

“Lie poan mi?” : “Tried him out yet?”

“Srätx zasrìn poan?” : “Mind if we borrow him?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, got there in the end. Big kudos to my partner-in-crime for this one, IceCladShade, who did far too much of the work. Comments are, of course, more than welcome, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on this deluge of debauchery.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Reprisal

The Lysistrata retrovirus was a work of genius on behalf of the scientists and public relations department of the Resources Development Administration, and of cold-blooded calculation on the part of their executives. The genetic formula for the retrovirus was developed on Earth, and sent out to Pandora on the ISV _Venture Star_ , being synthesized during the years-long journey. It is important to note that not only was the retrovirus designed and keyed to the genome of the Na’vi species before the short-lived War of Pandora, it was actually synthesized in advance. What little information has been extracted from the upper echelons of the RDA suggests that plans were in progress to deploy the retrovirus regardless of the results of the Avatar project and other outreach programs, after the failure of the initial diplomatic overtures due to RDA impatience. 

Fragmentary evidence implies that the plan was to blame its effects on an inadvertently-transmitted disease which managed to penetrate the stringent screening measures employed by the RDA, despite ‘all possible preventative measures being taken’. Whatever the plans were, the actual release of the retrovirus into the upper atmosphere of Pandora was ordered by Parker Selfridge, the on-site administrator for RDA operations in the region of the Omaticaya tribe, shortly before entering cryogenic sleep and beginning the journey back to Earth. 

The actual effect of the Lysistrata retrovirus was a subtle one, at first. Dispersed into the upper atmosphere and transmitted via water droplets, it was specifically keyed to the female gender of the Na’vi, blocking the production of a protein necessary for the creation of viable ova, thus effectively rendering the species sterile. It had no effect on the males, but effectively used them as asymptomatic carriers. It would have been a bloodless end, but an end nonetheless, had Eywa not intervened.

  
 **\- Ennel te Warders Weylrr’fil,** **_A Record of Humanity on Pandora_ ** ****

* * *

Ricken woke, as he had every day for the past several months, with his face pressed between Irato’s lean pectorals, a hand thrown over his back, hugging him closer, and a hard cock rubbing between his asscheeks. His aching hole was still wet and slowly leaking with the load his _yora’tu_ had filled him with before going to sleep. The ex-marine let out a lazy groan as he pushed his ass backwards and bounced it up and down, spreading the cum along his cleft for a few moments, before beginning to crawl his way down the Na’vi’s body. He kissed the blue flesh as he went, letting his hands trace over lean muscle and sensitive nipples, pleased with the sleepy shudder he felt through Irato’s body. 

Moving lower, Ricken finally came face to face with the cock that had filled him daily since his _yora’tu_ had taken him. With one hand he slowly pumped the shaft, while the other slipped beneath it to heft and play with Irato’s balls, a hot and heavy weight in his hand. Irato began to stir as he continued to work the cock. The Na’vi began to lightly thrust into Ricken’s hand, which he took as a cue to go further. Leaning down, he stretched his mouth and took the head of the cock in, licking and sucking on it for a moment before moving his hands behind the Na’vi’s hips and slowly but surely pulling himself down, until the whole of the cock was sheathed in his mouth and throat. It wasn’t easy, but he’d had plenty of practice and was justifiably proud of being able to do it himself now, without any help from his _yora’tu_. The one time they’d been separated for a few days he’d had to struggle again afterwards, but as it was both of his holes got constant practice to keep them open and ready.

A three-fingered hand rose to pet Ricken’s hair, grown longer over his months of life with the Na’vi and pulled back into a queue. He hummed around the cock in his mouth, a ‘good morning’, before beginning to move back and forth on it, deliberately swallowing around the organ to enhance the sensation. He fell into the familiar rhythm he had learnt Irato liked to wake up to; not anaemic but not desperate either. He looked upwards, taking pleasure of his own in the Na’vi’s sleepy, pleased smile. 

His own cock strained upwards, but he paid no attention to it, basking in the affectionate petting, and in the comforting contentment of the daily routine. The heavy organ in his throat throbbed harder and faster as he kept massaging it. Slowly, Irato began to thrust into his mouth, going slightly harder as he awoke further. As Irato became a more active partner, Ricken stepped up his efforts, taking every inch of the Na’vi’s cock into his throat as the thrusts grew harder and longer. It was nowhere near the rough sex they would have the rest of the time, but then Irato’s morning release was usually much faster his others. Finally, a few minutes after he’d started, Ricken felt Irato shudder and braced for his release. 

The cock in his throat released a massive load, like every other he’d taken in recent months, it dwarfed any he could hope to give. The torrent of cum flooded straight down his throat to fill his stomach. Ricken didn’t eat much other food anymore - some fruit here and there, when his _yora’tu_ gave it to him, but most of the time he got by with just the cum. As Irato’s load tapered off, Ricken stayed on the cock, though he pulled away slowly until just the head remained inside, the last few spurts spilling onto his tongue so that he could savour the taste. He suckled on the fleshy tip, teasing the slit as he patiently awaited his _yora'tu'_ s waking. Irato gave him a few moments longer to suck his head clean before pulling out, giving him a gentle slap on the cheek with the head. Ricken’s cock throbbed, but he didn’t reach down towards it. He hadn’t been given permission.

Now fully awake, Irato pulled himself to his feet. Ricken followed suit, buoyed up with energy from his morning meal. The Na’vi let out a whooping cry, and a moment later Ean Tirol, his banshee, floated down from the higher canopy and perched on the wide branch they had made their bed for the night. Ricken busied himself with packing their things while Irato ate a quick breakfast of cured meat and berries. By the time he he had finished, Ricken was done with his task as well, and had hefted himself onto the banshee’s back, legs falling down either side of his neck, just as he had been tied that first time. 

“You want to taste me more, pet?” Irato asked, grinning. Ricken nodded. He had picked up the language fairly quickly, once he had a good reason to, so they spoke Na’vi almost always now. Irato slipped a hand between his legs, ghosting over his cock before teasing at his ass. “You are sure you don’t want me to fill you up while we ride?”

Ricken shook his head. “You filled me up last night, and I didn’t get to eat you out.”

“Very well,” Irato chuckled, pulling out the vine ropes to lash the human in place. “Just don’t distract.”

“I won’t,” Ricken assured him. He settled into his place, shifting slightly in his bindings to get comfortable before Irato mounted Ean Tirol. The Na’vi’s cock bounced against his slightly-distended abs, but he paid attention instead to the smooth ass and hole of his master. He gave it a chaste kiss before beginning to gently lick up and down the cleft. He felt the _ikran_ bunch its legs beneath them, then launch off into the air, pushing the ass down into his face. Ricken had become quite practiced at reading the twists and turns of flight from this position, when he could dive in and when he should pull back. There was a sense of loss of control in it, like he was just a part of the saddle and beast that Irato so expertly controlled, that made him come back to this position again and again. Lick by lick he cleaned his master’s crack of any sweat from the previous night, then returned to the hole. He traced around its rim, then began to gently tease at the hole itself. It was large enough he could easily work inside, but to go so quickly would be a waste. He could feel the cock laying across his body throb in response to his actions. His own responded as well at the mere knowledge that he was bringing Irato pleasure. 

As it always did on these flights, time flowed together into a blur of pleasure and pleasing. No thought entered the man’s mind but rimming and eating out his master, moaning into his hole whenever they suddenly turned in the sky, diving and ascending, driving the ass he was worshiping harder into his face, and letting him reach deeper than ever. The liquid warmth of precum spilled onto his stomach. 

Twice, Ricken heard the telltale _swish_ of an arrow being loosed, but he didn’t relent when it came to his task. His _yora’tu_ was working hard to bring down prey for the meals that came to him via the Na’vi’s gifts and cum, so it was only fair that he work just as hard to please his master in turn. The feeling of Irato leaking onto his stomach was just a sign that he was doing his job right.

Finally, there was a fifth shot, and then the shriek of a struck animal. Ean Tirol began to circle downwards, finally alighting on the ground. Irato hopped off, leaving Ricken staring at the sky. He heard the soft prayer for the animal’s spirit, then the rustle as its final struggles ceased. He stared at the sky for the long minutes it took for the Na’vi to efficiently tie his quarry to Ean Tirol’s saddle, then climb back on again. He welcomed his return with another kiss, then returned to where he had been before as the _ikran_ took off once more. 

Without the need to keep quiet, the ride home was more intense than the they’d taken when hunting. Irato pulled his steed into sharper dives and turns, taking the time to tire him out before returning home. The maneuvers pressed his ass into Ricken’s face harder than before. Ricken dragged his tongue along his master’s taint when the opportunity presented, dragging it between his sack and hole, a quiet moan escaping the Na’vi mounting his face. Other times he was shoved hard against Irato’s ass, to the point that he occasionally needed to shift a little for air. 

Sometime later, he felt Ean Tirol’s flight level out, the sounds of the village reaching his ears as they glided lower and lower. The landing pressed the Na’vi’s ass into Ricken’s face one last time before he hopped off, leaving the human to blink the stars from his eyes. He lay there for a moment before he was untied. Looking towards Ean Tirol, he saw the hexapede - _yerik_ , he reminded himself - tied to the banshee’s side, its body plump with meat. 

“Take that to the ‘ _emyu_ , then come find me,” Irato told him, starting to unstring and re-string his bow and go through the other post hunt routines. Ricken nodded, untying the animal before, with an effort, hefting it onto his shoulders. He wasn’t a weak man - hadn’t been since he’d joined the marines - but what was a relatively small animal compared to one of the Na’vi was pretty big to him. Still, he pulled it over his shoulders and started down from the _ikran_ perch towards the cooking-fires that were already burning merrily on the forest floor. He barely paid attention to his state of dress as he went; a far cry from only a few months ago. This had become the new normal, as had the comeradely catcalls and gentle fondling from Irato’s friends as he met them throughout the village. Hands on his bare shoulders, his naked back or his exposed ass were just how things were, as were questions about how full Irato had left him as greetings. 

He found a cook-fire tended by Räsai, another hunter, without anything to cook and left the _yerik_ there, exchanging a few words of greeting before starting back up the tree to find his master. He wound his way through the tribe, passing training warriors and children running around as he searched for Irato. As he walked, Eyì, a young hunter that Irato had mentored in the past, waved him over. 

“Ricken, Irato said he would meet you at the western edge of the village, he wanted to continue your training,” he said, looking down at Ricken with grin on his face. Ricken flushed red, remembering the last time that Eyì had seen Irato giving him training. He’d been attempting to ride a direhorse - ‘ _pa’li’_ \- he corrected himself. But without the queue, managing to ride one of the spirited animals was proving difficult, and he’d ended up covered in mud after a dozen falls from the creature. This wasn’t too bad, but ever since Eyì had seen him fall, multiple times, he’d taken to teasing Ricken relentlessly. 

“Thanks.” Ricken said, making his way away from the young Na’vi quickly before going to where he was told. There Irato was leading a direhorse over, and if he was right, it was the same one he’d been trying to ride their past few training sessions. He slumped slightly, knowing he was going to be bruised tonight, before walking towards his _yora’tu_.

The direhorse was a young one, meaning it was only about the size of a draft horse back on Earth, rather than that of a full-on elephant. Irato patted its side, and Ricken saw that he had already linked his queue to it. The horse butted its long head against his chest affectionately as it came closer. 

“I gave the _yerik_ to Räsai,” the human said.

“Good,” replied Irato, smiling with his pointed teeth. He patted the direhorse’s flank. “Up we go.”

Ricken prepared himself for a few more bruises.

* * *

The human was aching by the time the shell-horn blew, summoning the Tipani clan in its entirety to meet to hear the words of the Tsahik. He and Irato filed into the great circle of the clan and, as had become habit and almost custom, when the Na’vi sat down cross-legged, the human sat in his lap, sinking down onto his cock with a breathy sigh. Many others had done the same around the meeting-space. 

The Na’vi chattered over the heads of the humans, discussing the business of the day and comparing their pets and servants with a sense of friendly competition - who had found theirs the most obedient or creative, or who had tried out or succeeded in this or that kind of modification or endeavour. 

Underlying all of this, though, was a tension. Ever since the shower of meteorites which had been seen in the skies following the leaving of the human invaders, no children had been conceived. At first, the Tipani had assumed it was not an issue. Periods of sterility have occurred in the past, Eywa’s way of telling the people that the clan was large enough, or that lean times may be approaching and that the Clan should stockpile supplies. 

A hush fell over the clearing as the Tsahik rose from where she was seated. Ricken had only seen her in passing before, and at the few announcements she’d made to the Tipani during his time with them. Normally, she had an air of serenity around her, a calmness and stability that had a way of putting others at ease. But as she rose and stepped towards the center of the Clan, a stir ran through the gathered Clan, her steps betraying worry and uncertainty. 

“Today,” she started, voice solem, “A messenger from the Omaticaya returned to us, and from them, word from the Aunrai, Olangi and Tayrangi Clans. And all have said the same,” she stopped, the next words caught in her throat. “Not a single child has been conceived, in any clan, since the falling stars were seen.”

Whispers broke out throughout the crowd, mutterings that were too low and muddled for Ricken to make out, but the message, and worry, was clear. 

“We had assumed it was as before; that Eywa not gifting us children was a sign of future hardships, that plants would wither and prey would grow lean. But we have seen the opposite. Trees sag under the weight of their fruit and herds of _yerik_ bound the plains,” she went on. Ricken couldn’t help but nod, thinking of the hunt from earlier that day. “We have learned of the reason, from a human among the Olangi,” the muttering ceasing at her words. 

“This human, an _‘umtsayu_ of their people, approached their Tsahik, asking to return to the Great Wound and the humans home near it, claiming that he may know of the source of this affliction. There, he laboured for many days before returning to the Olangi,” not a sound could be heard as they waited for the Tsahik to continue. “He informed the chief and Tsahik that this was the responsibility of humans. Of a sickness they created to wipe our world of the People, by preventing any child from being born,” she finished. 

This time, the whispers that spread through the tribe were angry, rising in a cacophony of sound. It was only when the horn blew again that some quieted, and the Tsahik could once more be heard over the crowd. “But do not despair! Eywa has not abandoned us in our hour of need! Another message was sent to the Olangi, and to the Tsahik of other tribes! Eywa will give us a deliverance, if we go to the Trees of Souls and lay down there together with the _muxta simuva_ who She delivered unto us before. All is within Her devising.”

The discussion quietened down with this assurance, but by no means halted. Questions were called out to the Tsahik, who answered them as best she could, but she had little further information to offer. It was a grim, yet oddly hopeful clan who left the traditional hunting grounds of the Tipani that night, taking flight on dozens of _ikran_ to reach the Tree of Souls. There, they joined many other clans, each with their own human pets and servants. Ricken and Irato went along with the tide, finding a place some way away from the sacred tree.

There, the dozens of humans who had joined the Tipani, alongside those in other tribes, were instructed to lay within the grasses that grew around the sacred tree, all of the Na’vi who had come with them, with the exception of the Tsahik, were instructed to stand some distance away and not approach until the Tsahik stood. 

As one, all of the Tsahik knelt before the Tree of Souls, an unnatural silence seemed to fill the area as the animals in the distance fell silent. Grasses stood tall as the wind died, as if the world was holding its breath. Ricken lay there, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as he felt _something_ around him. The grasses brushed his body, and he realized abruptly that they were growing before his very eyes, pulsing with light. He felt as if something had turned its eye upon him, and was looking straight through skin and flesh and bone to at everything he was. He wanted to squirm under its gaze, to back away and return to Irato’s side, but he found himself frozen, as if he was only an observer in his body. Images flashed before him. 

_Himself and Irato in the throes of passion._

_Himself, bedridden, sweat pouring down his brow as muffled words were said around him._

_A young Na’vi, his build more sturdy than any he’d seen before and five fingers on each hand, running alongside Irato across the plains._

_That same Na’vi sitting beside him, whispering quietly as they tended an injured Irato._

Before he could absorb what these meant, they stopped, and whatever force was keeping him in place faded. Around him, he could hear the humans stirring, the Tsahik had risen and were quietly conversing with each other at the base of the Tree of Souls. Ricken was about to rise to his feet when a big blue _something_ swept him up, and he found himself pressed to a chest - a chest whose scent he could easily recognize, thanks to long familiarity. Irato. 

“What...” _happened_ , he wanted to say, but his throat felt raw and dry, and he couldn’t get the words out. The back of his neck was itching, too. 

“Eywa has touched us here,” Irato said, his voice low and reverent. 

“How?” Ricken looked up at the Na’vi. His yellow eyes were bright with… something.

“I do not know, entirely. But I know something.” He stood abruptly, getting to his feet and turning away from the Tree. “I want you, now, and not in the midst of all this.” So saying, he began to weave through the crowds, carrying Ricken with him until they reached Ean Tirol. The _ikran_ was unusually quiet, but perked up as the two of them arrived. Irato slung the human onto the saddle without asking for which position he wanted, baring his naked ass. His cock bounced roughly against the leather, and he moaned in pleasure at the feeling, a sticky, all-encompassing delight which shot through him. He felt something dampen his ass, then his moan lowered and turned to a strangled groan as the Na’vi’s member plunged roughly inside. Normally, this kind of abrupt entry would cause some pain, and need some stretching beforehand, but now his dominant’s cock just slid in, as though it was always meant to be there.

The _ikran_ beat its wings, once, twice, and they quickly rose into the air, Irato’s cock shifting violently in Ricken’s hole. Normally the motion would have had him groaning in displeasure as it pressed into him awkwardly (and given that it usually happened at least twice a week, he was familiar with the feeling), but he felt nothing but mind numbing pleasure as his hole was stretched in ways that normally would have made him wince. Every shift of Irato against his back, every throb of the cock inside him, his lover’s smell seemed to be enhanced, sending surges of desire through him that only seemed to build. 

The Na’vi in question couldn’t hold himself back from rolling his hips deeply into his human. He made an effort to flex and rub his cock against every sensitive point that Ricken had and which he had become intimately familiar with over the last several months, drawing sounds of pleasure from him second by second. It was an effort of will to keep enough control to direct Ean Tirol where to go, just as it had been to keep himself from taking Ricken right then and there before the Tree of Souls. It wouldn’t have been profane; Eywa cared nothing for sexual ‘impropriety’ - and training his human out of such silly notions was still proving to be an entertaining project - but he didn’t want to fuck Ricken there, in a press of other bodies. He wanted his _munxta simuva_ all to himself, paying attention to nothing but him, as they explored their gift from Eywa.

The Na’vi felt his human’s hole quiver and constrict around his cock, evidently remembering some of the training he’d been given on how to please his master. He’d always had trouble with that, simply due to the size of Irato’s cock and the way it split him open, but now Ricken was practicing the technique like a master. The Na’vi gritted his teeth and gave a series of quick, powerful thrusts. The force of then knocked the human out of his equilibrium and made his hole return to simple tight openness again. Irato didn’t trust himself not to cum if Ricken kept at it, and he wanted that to be under his control in a way he couldn’t manage while dividing his attention with flight.

More than that, there was a secret Eywa had told him, and he couldn’t use his queue while flying Ean Tirol.

His patience slowly fraying, Irato finally spotted what he was looking for; one of the hunter’s refuges that were often built in the treetops away from Hometree. It was a small house and platform built into the crook of three great branches, and from his _ikran’_ s back the Na’vi could see that the signal for an occupant had not been raised. He directed his mount to wheel in and, once he was perched, waited only long enough to instruct the _ikran_ not to wait but to go and hunt, hopped off his back, pulling Ricken with him still impaled on his cock.

“H-hell,” Ricken panted as he was carried, the shift in position and weight driving him further down on Irato’s cock. He could feel the Na’vi’s balls pressed against his ass as he was carried into the hut. Though his hole was, as always, tender, sensation of being filled by the larger male seemed at the same time more intense than usual. The slight burn of pain and the strain of being stretched was present, but whatever discomfort he’d normally feel seemed distant, as if it was only because he thought he should be uncomfortable, not that he actually was. 

The hut he was carried into was small, but well made, easily enough to hold a small party of hunters comfortably, and stocked with enough preserved food for a few days. Openings revealed a small forest spring below, and a clearing that showed signs of having been home to pa’li for a time. Ricken’s brief examination was cut off when he felt his _yora’tu_ lean him forwards a little, holding him around the chest with one arm. He felt the fingers of the other hand brush against the back of his neck. He couldn’t help but release a gasp, as he felt the touch there incredibly intensely, as though the sensitivity of the skin had been turned up to eleven. “I-Irato?” he gasped.

“Are you mine, Ricken?” the Na’vi said, his voice taking on an aspect of seriousness Ricken only heard when he was being given a real command, one he wasn’t to break. “Will you be mine, joined before Eywa to serve me faithfully?”

“I-I will,” the former marine said. “I am.”

“This will feel strange to you,” Irato said, then took his braid in hand. The tendrils of his _kuru_ waved and twitched in the air of anticipation of what was about to happen. He raised the top to the place he’d touched a moment earlier, and let the tendrils unravel and touch the tanned flesh. Ricken gasped and shuddered even at that feather-light touch, but what happened next was different than anything he’d witnessed before. With an ikran or other child of Eywa, the _tsaheylu_ would have both _kuru_ intertwine and bond together. With Ricken, the tendrils split apart, seeming to find places they liked, then sink into the human’s skin. There was no blood, but he felt his partner go stiff on his cock. For a moment, at least, before the bond formed fully.

Pleasure, all-encompassing, washed over both men like water from a broken dam, as they experienced both their own gratification and that of their partner. Ricken was left almost breathless with the force of it, and Irato was little better. A heartbeat later, _awareness_ blossomed. There were no words for it that the once-marine could imagine, no comparison to any sight or sound or smell, but he could _feel_ Irato’s love for him. It was fierce, consuming, like a fire set somewhere in his bowels that reached up to possess every part of him. Irato would be satisfied with nothing less than everything he had to give, but would give him everything in return. At the same time, he could feel the Na’vi’s sense of his own devotion - that he was willing and happy to provide everything Irato wanted and more. He had always been a follower, but his _yoru’tu_ had shown him just how deep that tendency went.

There was a whirl of motion, and Ricken found himself pressed up against a wall. “My love,” Irato growled. “Brace yourself.”

That was all the warning the human got before Irato started up a furious pace, hammering all but the barest shred of breath from Ricken’s body. They had gone hard before, but never this hard. They had always been afraid of the difference in size and strength; that Irato would simply break something. Now, though, his body took the punishment gladly, adapting to the hunter’s violence perfectly as the human’s stomach bulged against the wall with each thrust. With the combined intensity of their shared sensation Ricken was simply lost, screaming out his pleasure to mingle with his lover’s grunts and growls and the wet slapping of flesh against lubricated flesh. 

The human’s cock bounced in the air, dripping precum and then squirting a stream of watery cum to run down the wall. He sagged in the aftermath of his orgasm, but his _yora’tu_ kept up his furious thrusts until he had wrung out a second orgasm before he finally came himself. The warning rippled across their bond only moments before the flood broke, hot cum filling the former marine’s eager insides. Irato continued to slowly rut into him through his climax, before finally pulling Ricken away from the wall and walking over to the bed, laying him down on his back before pulling out. 

Ricken moved one of his hands to his stomach, his abs slightly distended from the massive load Irato had spilled within him. He felt a slight trickle escape from him before his hole sealed up, the thick seed now sealed inside. Before he’d always either let it absorb or push it out, the odd feeling that accompanied being filled would be uncomfortable some days. He wasn’t sure why, but this felt different. It was almost pleasant and soothing as the warmth of Irato’s load seemed to radiate through him. 

“You look like a gift from Eywa, my _ioang‘fil,”_ Irato praised as he looked down at where his human lay. The sight was enough for his arousal to ignite again, his cock hardened as he prepared for another round with his partner. His hand moved to rest over Ricken’s. Seeing his partner’s body swollen with his essence sparked something. “Perfectly made for me,” he said as he knelt at the edge of where Ricken lay. His hardened shaft was level with the humans entrance. He slowly pressed forward and sank back into the smaller male, enjoying the feeling easily entering as his load lubricated the passage.

A groan escaped Ricken as he was taken again. The bulge under his hand swelled when Irato claimed him again. His abs were clearly distended from below, pressed out by the mix of Na’vi cock and cum that filled every bit of space within him. Still, the discomfort was minimal, and a thrill ran through him when he moved his hand and saw just how large the intrusion was. If he still wore clothing, it wouldn’t have hidden the bulge. He could feel the echo of his mate’s pride and possessiveness as well, the sense that this was his mark upon the human, laying a permanent claim.

This round of lovemaking was a little less desperate, though not much less intense, and slowly turned into a lazy, measured thing, Irato smiling down at Ricken as he worked him to a feverish point of desire that echoed back and forth across their link. Finally, as he felt his release approaching again he pulled out for a second time, leaving the former marine to whine desperately as he sealed himself once more. Irato whispered sweet, filthy nothings as he moved the human’s body so that his face hung over the end of the bed. Ricken felt his will pulse down their link and obediently opened his mouth. The broad head of the na’vi’s cock pushed past his lips and down into his throat. Irato’s golden irises thinned as he watched his mate’s neck distend subtly around the press of his member. Through the bond, he could feel no pain, no remnant gag reflex, not even a shortness of breath from his lover.

“I could stay here, you know,” he said. “Keep you on my cock forever. Just another part of me, meant to provide me pleasure when I want it.”

Ricken could do little to move, his arms held down by Irato’s greater strength and his head held still by his cock, but through the bond and through the stutter of his hips the Na’vi knew what he thought of that.

Neither of them left the hut for a long time, and when the nights came Irato saw the spots of bioluminescence wink into existence on his mate’s skin, in perfect mirroring of his own.

* * *

Ricken woke, as he had the last several months, with his throat stretched around his mate’s cock. It had quickly become habit for the two of them, once he was able, to spend his nights like this, the better to be able to wake his _yora’tu_. Not to mention that being this close to him, his nose pressed against his mate, surrounded by his scent, brought a level of comfort to Ricken. As he set to work and Irato began to groan his way awake, the human felt a thrill in his gut. Today was the day that the Tsahik was to return, and bring word from Eywa as to the final part of her gift to the People.

He was just about to start working the head of his partner’s shaft when a sudden wave of dizziness struck him, sending his head spinning, before it faded as quickly as it had come. He mentally shook away what remained of his headache, content to ignore what had become almost a part of his morning routine at this part. The episodes, though the word seemed a little grand to describe them, had begun around a month after that week he and Irato had spent in that hut together, which had mostly consisted of his mate making sure he was quite full of his seed. Though there had been a little time for making some discoveries as well.

The most obvious was, of course, that he - and, as they discovered later, all the other humans taken to the Trees of Souls - had gained a spot on the back of the neck where one of the People could bond to them with a _kuru_ . They couldn’t form a bond themselves, but almost all of the Na’vi who had claimed a _muxta simuva_ from the battle against the RDA had now bonded that human. 

Besides that, though, Eywa had given the humans a number of new gifts. The first that they had discovered was a greater resilience to their bodies. Ricken’s ass sealed itself near instantly after being fucked, and the large intrusions left no damage, his body easily stretching to accommodate, and stretching back afterwards so he would be just as tight again. The second was something only a little less noticeable, given their activities, and was that he seemed to be able to somehow separate his throat from his airway, allowing him to take Irato’s cock all the way down without risk of not being able to breathe. This also contributed to his mate’s use of him, as he spent most nights keeping his _yora’tu’s_ member warm in either his throat or his ass. These were things that Irato took great pleasure in, and on days when neither had any duties to attend to Ricken could expect to spend most of his waking hours with his partner’s cock deep inside either of his holes.

His wandering thoughts were put to an end when his partner’s hand landed on his head. The heavy-weight forced him down to the base of Irato’s cock where he remained, even after the hand was removed. He remained there when the flow started, piss quickly filling his stomach, a light swell as it joined the load of cum he’d swallowed during his midnight snack. As he felt his stomach grow heavy with it, the last traces of sleepiness were banished from his body. The discovery of the effect of Na’vi urine - not that it was quite right to call it that, as it had no urea in it - on humans had been quite an accident, but Irato had but it to good use keeping his human energetic and peppy no matter the circumstances. Some of their more impressive sexual feats would have been impossible without it, due to sheer tiredness. His mate’s hand held him there for another few minutes, and Ricken smiled a little at the Na’vi’s laziness, before he was allowed up.

Before long, they had descended from their hammocks to the village proper, where people both human and Na’vi were gathering. It was always a bit of a thing of wonder for Ricken to see all the people going about with the little bioluminescent spots mirroring their _yora’tu_. Some had even been bonded by more than one of the Na’vi, as some shared humans rather than keeping them for themselves, or had several-way relationships, and those were even brighter, as the patterns of all their different partners manifested together. The swell of the gathering crowd reminded Ricken of the day before Eywa had touched them all.

It seemed almost a lifetime ago.

While they waited for the Tsahik, Irato sat down cross-legged and pulled Ricken into his lap and onto his cock, speaking over his head with the other hunters as the human gently rocked up and down, bringing his mate pleasure. A few minutes in the Na’vi connected his queue as well, so that Ricken could share in the pleasure he offered - though this was as much test as gift, as the smaller man had been forbidden from coming that day until given permission.

Eventually, though, the shamaness arrived, and the crowd fell silent. Ricken stilled as well in respect, though he did not move.

“People of the Tipani clan!” she said in a clear voice. “I come to you know to bring word from Eywa, for She has revealed to me the final part of the blessing she imparted to defeat the last weapon of the tawtute.” As she spoke, she walked forwards towards the circle of listening Na’vi, directly towards Irato and his mate.

“Irato and Ricken, once of the tawtute, you will be the first to know of your blessing, though not the last,” she said. “For you, though you were not born on this world, have come here and been adopted wholeheartedly by Eywa, and as a good mother gives her love both to the children of her body, and the children of her heart, so she has given her love to you.”

Ricken felt almost paralysed by , the flicker of old embarrassment licking at him as he sat on his mate’s cock before one of the great spiritual leaders of his adopted people, and received the words of his adopted deity.

“Ricken, once of the tawtute, Eywa has given you the gift of giving in turn - giving life to our people, and so defeating the weapon that has been raised against us. You bear within you the child of Irato of the Tipani, and so you and yours shall be named _Na’vi’akra_ , and welcome among us so long as you live by the wish of Eywa.”

Like a dam bursting, the crowd erupted into cheers and jubilation. At the center of the storm of sound, Ricken sat still and stunned. He could barely process what he had been told.

Then a three-fingered hand spread across his stomach, and he felt the warmth and love grow within him and his lover, and all was well with the world.

* * *

**Translations**

‘Emyu : cooker

Kuru : neural queue

Na’vi’akra : literally ‘fertile people’


End file.
